


The Boy In The Window

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Suicide (Detroit: Become Human), Attraction, Canon-Typical Violence, Capitol Park Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Jimmy's Bar, M/M, Masturbation, Police Brutality, Slow Burn, Surprise Kissing, The Interrogation Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), The Nest Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: AU where Connor is a mannequin in the window of Smith and White, Capitol Park location.On a rainy night walking through the streets of Detroit, Lieutenant Hank Anderson notices a pretty boy modeling clothes in the window of a popular fashion chain. He doesn't care about the clothes, but the android's face is like something out of a fantasy. Hank hates androids, and dismisses his attraction when he is called away to the murder of one Carlos Ortiz.Later, after drowning his sorrows, Hank returns to find the boy in the window wants to talk, but is Hank being manipulated by a company that wants his credit card data or is there something real behind that pane of glass?





	1. On A Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> I need something else besides my big bang fics to work on, so I figure I can plug away at this when I need a break. It'll probably turn out similar to my thread on Twitter, though I've upped the stakes slightly.
> 
> Warning for android suicide in this chapter. 
> 
> There's no sex yet but Hank thinks about railing Connor into his mattress so I figure it's better to rate it Explicit just to be sure, it'll have sex by the end anyway.

Hank Anderson didn't give a fuck about fashion. He had his own style, and it wasn't the bland, generic clothes being flaunted in the window of Smith and White. Something had caught his eye on this rainy evening walking through Capitol Park, though. One of the mannequins moving in the window put its hand on the glass, and Hank was forced to look at it. A soft boy, with eyes the colors of hazelnuts and a smile to kill for modeled a leather jacket, turtleneck, and jeans. It walked back and forth, stretching to show off the style before spinning around to show the back.

But of course it wasn't a boy. Just an android made to look like one, complete with come-hither brown eyes that wanted to steal his soul and his wallet. It made sense that CyberLife wasted to chase perfection, but this mannequin was so incredibly appealing to Hank that he struggled to tear his gaze away.

Hank sighed, his breath turning to vapor in the cold night air. Was he that lonely that he was starting to find these things attractive?

The android winked and Hank shook his head, walking away. Stupid marketing, that's all it was. Heat rose to his cheeks as he realized he'd been played by a fucking ad of all things. He was getting too old for this world that took the image of humanity and slapped it on a robot to the point it was hard to tell the difference. Even half the cops down at the precinct were androids, now. People were becoming obsolete.

His cellphone buzzed in his pocket and fished it out, prodding at the screen to make it shut the hell up. He scanned the text before accidentally fat-fingering it and deleting the thing. He was needed at a crime scene. Victim's name was Carlos Ortiz, and Ben's first analysis suggested he thought the vic had been taken out by his android. He slowly typed out a text, asking for the address he'd mistakenly deleted. Ben sent it right back without complaint, his loyal subordinate saving the day yet again.

Hank crossed the street and walked back to the parking garage where he'd left his Oldsmobile. He'd planned on heading to Jimmy's Bar to watch the game, but whatever. He'd spend the night rooting through a crime scene instead. At least it would keep him out of trouble. Away from store windows and the pretty little android strutting its stuff.

He needed to get laid.

***

Hank pulled up to find Gavin marching an android from the dilapidated house. The thing had clearly taken some fresh damage, judging by the trail of thirium dribbling down its nose. If it had been a human suspect, Hank would have had some words to say about it, but he supposed androids didn't feel pain. Gavin was within his rights to do whatever he wanted, because androids had no rights.

He thought about the pretty boy in the window brutalized like that, and his stomach churned. It was an ugly thought to care about a pretty face but not for this cigarette-burnt housekeeping android being hustled into the back of a van. Either they were both living beings, or neither of them were.

Hank tutted at himself. What stupid thoughts he was having tonight. They were both just machines, nothing more. They didn't feel anything. Not this android suspect, nor the boy in the window.

***

Carlos Ortiz's android cracked within minutes of Gavin sitting with it. It was an ugly interrogation, even by Gavin's standards. Hank felt a little sick as Gavin threatened it with the probability that it would be torn apart by CyberLife for deactivation. Gavin seemed to take such a sick pleasure in delivering the blow that Hank wondered if either one of them was human. 

Hank realized he'd have to call it as Gavin continued to torment the thing long after his confession had been obtained. Hank wandered in, ordering Gavin out of the room. Gavin swore as Chris wrestled to move the android. The file photos still lay on the desk. I AM ALIVE in the victim's own blood written above his body.

As the android sobbed, grabbed Chris' gun and shot itself in the head, Hank almost forgot for a moment that the perp was just a machine before he corrected himself. It was merely a malfunctioning machine. This wasn't suicide. This wasn't the same as a successful game of Russian Roulette. The android's blood was blue. It was just imitating human behavior.

Hank couldn't get rid of the mental image, and he vomited in a bathroom stall minutes later.

***

Jimmy's was closing as Hank arrived, but Jimmy had always been good to him. He took one look at Hank's face and sold him a drink after hours. Jimmy stayed behind the bar and let Hank brood for a couple of hours, serving him until he'd had more than enough and then firmly advising him to go home. 

Hank had left the car behind, and he cursed as he fumbled with his phone and realized he'd forgotten to charge it. The device was dead in the water. He'd have to walk to Capitol Park, then. The taxi bay would have plenty of cabs waiting to take him home. Hopefully he wouldn't have to explain to a fellow DPD officer why he was publicly intoxicated.

The storm still rumbled, low and menacing in the distance. Hank was drenched and shivering by the time he reached Capitol Park. The CyberLife store glowed in the dark, androids stiff and inactive, but that held no allure. Hank's eyes were on the other side of the street, where the pretty boy still stood in the window modeling the same outfit it had been wearing earlier. Hank staggered over to the glass. It wouldn't hurt to take a look. It didn't cost anything to ogle the eye candy, and he was almost drunk enough to forget that the boy in question was an android.

Hank placed his hand on the glass. To his shock, the boy smiled and stepped forward, placing his hand on the other side of Hank's. His hand was small compared to Hank's meaty palm. The boy looked into his eyes with those soft brown orbs, as if beseeching Hank to be let out of his glass cage.

"Can't do that, kid," Hank drawled, pulling his hand away. "You're not mine. Jus' a store dummy." A taxi waited across the street, promising shelter from the wind and rain. He needed to tear himself away and go the hell home. This android was nothing more than something nice to look at, and he'd looked. He'd just turned his back on the window when he heard a voice, and spun back around on his heel in time to see the boy's mouth close.

"What?" Hank asked. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. He didn't think he'd drunk quite that much, but there was no way the android was addressing him. The only logical explanation was that he was imagining it.

Until the android rapped on the glass to get his attention, and its lips moved again. Hank forgot about the taxi and moved closer, intrigued.

"What's your name?" The boy's voice, even muffled through the window pane, was high and sweet. A perfect voice for such a flawless face. Some of the tension left in Hank's shoulders from the awful interrogation eased. It wasn't that strange that an android was talking to him. Even these window models came with the ability to hold conversations. They often doubled as store clerks and salespeople, much to Hank's chagrin. Sometimes he just wanted to talk to a real person, not a piece of plastic.

He huffed as he realized the irony of standing here, wanting to speak with this android when he'd rejected pretty much every other one he'd come into contact with.

"My name? I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson," Hank blurted out without thinking. It took him a few seconds to realize he was probably being entered into a database that would send him relentless marketing. "What else do you want? My home address? My e-mail? My fuckin' phone number? Maybe my work number too, so you can tell Ben what a pathetic piece of shit I am?"

"No." The android shot him a sad smile, and Hank folded his arms, telling himself he wasn't going to fall for this bullshit. "I wasn't intending to solicit information to sell to a third party."

"Why else would you ask? You're a goddamn mannequin. A stupid ad with a pretty face designed to lure in sad old fucks like me." Hank wiped the rain from his face. He was wet and uncomfortable, but he couldn't seem to just leave, even when the taxi beeped and closed its doors, giving up on him as a potential customer.

"Do you not enjoy it when I refer to you by name, Hank?" The android shot him a curious glance. "I like that name. I like you."

His name did sound good in that voice. Too good. Hank shoved away the thought of this pretty boy screaming his name as he railed it into his mattress. "I'm sure you say that to every customer who comes strolling down the boulevard."

The android seemed to ignore the insult. "I have a name, too. I'm Connor. I'm an RK800 model, a prototype created by CyberLife to better engage with customers."

"What's a prototype doin' in a window, huh? You piss someone off in there?" Hank asked.

"The manager doesn't think I'm of benefit. I have thirty days to prove I can sell the least popular items in the store, or I'll be returned to CyberLife and deactivated."

"So that's the scam, huh? Christ, you're worse than those animal shelter ads. All puppy dog eyes and sad music, but all they really want is your credit card information. Jesus Christ, I can't believe I fell for this shit." He turned his back on Connor and started to trudge across the street. His shoes squelched, full of water. He'd be lucky if he didn't get sick from being out in the cold. His joints ached, and he needed his warm bed. That and to cuddle Sumo, who'd been a pitiful, emaciated dog in a kill shelter before Hank had come to the rescue.

"Please, Hank. I don't want to be deactivated." His voice sounded so sincere that Hank reached into his jacket to fish out his wallet when he stopped himself. He was a sucker for lost causes, but he wasn't going to fall for it this time.

Hank turned back to Connor, his teeth set in a snarl. "You don't want anything. You're a machine. Just a fucking machine." He climbed into the taxi and pulled the doors shut before they could close of their own accord. He had to block the sight of Connor with his hands pressed to the glass, looking at Hank with those beautiful, pleading eyes, or he'd be a fool down a thousand bucks before he knew it.


	2. Waiting For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank falls off the roof during The Nest and laments the fact that he doesn't have a partner. Lonely and steeped in self-pity, he goes to see Connor, who's facing a dire situation himself...

Hank narrowly avoided the auto-cab as he crossed the road to Chicken Feed in the pouring rain. He was hungover and his lead on a deviant in the Ravendale district had turned up cold, leaving him in a sour mood.

"Hank. How you doin'?" Gary called to him as he approached the stand.

"Eh, you know, same old shit," Hank replied. The rain dripped from his hair as he stood underneath the awning, contributing to his morning misery. His pounding headache had barely subsided enough to leave the house, and he was sure the cold November rain was actually digging needles into his skin.

"Usual?"

Hank nodded. Gary started cooking up his burger on the grill. At least his nausea had subsided, and the food smelled amazing, the grease from the burger mingling with the leftover remnants of the chicken Gary was cooking next to it. Hank loved the fact that no two burgers from Gary's grill tasted the same. The city health inspectors weren't thrilled about the old griddle, but Hank sure as hell wasn't gonna turn Gary in for operating the truck without a current inspection, especially when he'd seen the bullshit they'd failed him for. He'd never gotten sick from Chicken Feed a day in his life and that was a good enough certification for his tastes.

"So I heard those fucking plastics are tryin' to take your job now, too," Gary remarked as he flipped Hank's burger. It hissed and spat as the cold side hit the hot plate, and Hank's stomach growled in response. "CyberLife has announced they're working on a new model. A police detective. Can you believe it? I even heard they're writin' books and composing music now. Can you imagine what that's gotta sound like?"

"Heh." Hank didn't feel much like small talk. Some days he loved shooting the shit with Gary about how androids were ruining everything, but today wasn't one of those days.

Gary continued. "Probably all bleep blorp, lifeless shit. Guess that ain't too different to what they're already playin' on the radio, huh?"

"Somethin' like that." It was true they didn't make music like they used to. Hank had an entire collection of mid-last-century jazz records to prove it, but the music that came out of Connor's mouth every time he spoke made him wonder if the top 40 wasn't already composed by androids behind the scenes.

Fuck, why was he still thinking about that android in the window?

"You feelin' all right, Hank?" Gary asked.

"Yeah, had a late night. Tough case."

"Fair, fair. Can't talk about it, I understand." Gary handed him the burger and a pineapple passion soda.

"Thanks Gary, I'm starving." Hank walked over to an empty table, his mind still on Carlos Ortiz's android. It had almost seemed afraid, much like Connor when he'd mentioned being deactivated if he wasn't able to sell enough clothing.

He was just projecting, wasn't he? Androids didn't feel anything.

Halfway through his burger, his cellphone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket with greasy fingers. A message from the DPD automated system informed him about reports of a possible deviant living in an abandoned building at Detroit Urban Farms.

Hank sighed. He was finishing his burger before he went anywhere. The small pleasures in life were all he had left and he'd be damned if androids were gonna take those away from him too.

***

Hank grappled with the suspect. He'd had to cut the deviant off to have any chance in hell of catching it, but he'd located a way around that involved running up several flights of steps. He was winded, but adrenaline kept him on his feet even as the android gave him all it had.

It wasn't enough, though. The deviant overpowered him and shoved him backwards. Hank lost his footing and fell off the rooftop, hanging on for dear life as the suspect fled. He felt his grip slipping, his fingers unable to maintain purchase on the concrete for long. If only he had a partner to pull him up, but nobody had wanted to work with him for years. He was alone on this case and it was all his own fault.

Hank lost his grip, his fingers giving way under the weight of his large frame. He barely had time to react or accept his impending death. He reached out to break his fall and felt his arm crack as he landed heavily on several large sacks of grain piled next to the building. Great. This day was a fucking winner, that was for sure. He lay on his back and pulled out his phone, calling for backup and an ambulance. He cursed himself out for being dumb enough to think he still had what it took to be a cop.

Perhaps he should just fucking retire.

***

Ben's pitying eyes haunted Hank long after he'd been discharged from the hospital with his arm in a sling. He'd offered to drive Hank home, but Hank was in no mood for more soft lectures on how he needed to take better care of himself. Ben meant well but Hank wanted to retain the last of his dignity.

It was only a mild sprain to the wrist. He'd gotten off lucky, all things considered, and a few days in a sling would probably take care of everything. Fowler wanted him off the case and at home resting. He'd seemed surprised when Hank had insisted on continuing to work the case. The case he'd tried to argue himself out of. Hank knew he didn't even make sense to himself sometimes, but he didn't want to sit at home alone getting maudlin drunk. He'd only wake up on the floor clutching Cole's photo with his revolver close by. One of these days he wouldn't wake up at all. Working a case he hated was better than working no case at all. At least this way he was busy.

He passed three auto-cabs on his way to Capitol Park, knowing he could have flagged down any one of them. He wasn't dumb enough to delude himself that he was walking this way for any other reason than to see Connor again. That stupid android in the window had been on his mind as he'd lay on the grain sacks and considered the fact he'd almost died.

He hated the dumb grin that crossed his face as he caught sight of Connor in the window. It was dark, and the square was empty, so Hank stepped forward and placed his hand on the glass. Connor smirked, breaking his pose and stepping down from his podium to stand in front of the window on the other side. He pressed his hand to Hank's.  
"I didn't think I'd see you again," Connor admitted. The smile faded as his LED turned yellow and Hank realized he was glancing at his arm. "What happened?"

"I fell off a roof during a police chase," Hank explained. "I was careless. The suspect got away."

"Fortunately, you appear to only have a minor sprain. You were lucky, Lieutenant."

"That's what they keep tellin' me but I don't feel so lucky," Hank admitted. "It shouldn't have ended the way it did. If I'd had a partner, maybe they could have helped me, but nobody's wanted to work with me in years."

"Why is that?" Connor asked.

"Cause I push 'em away." Hank pulled his hand away from the window. "I'm just a sad, pathetic drunk, Connor. That's why I'm talking to a mannequin in a store window. There's nobody waitin' at home for me." Hank dragged his feet against the sidewalk. "I should go."

"Wait. Please." Connor's cry made Hank spin on his heel. "I have one week left, and I can't sell these clothes. Nobody wants them. I was set up to fail, and I'm going to be deactivated."

"I'm sorry, Connor. There's nothin' I can do. I don't have the money to buy fifty turtlenecks, or believe me, I would."

"That's very kind of you," Connor said, "but I'm not asking you to. Just… stay with me. Talk to me. Give me five more minutes of your time. That's all I ask."

"Why?" Hank asked.

"Because you're the only person who's ever treated me like more than a piece of equipment. You speak to me like a real human being. It feels… nice. I spend all day being yelled at and abused by customers. Teenagers throw eggs at my window when I stand here at night. I find myself hoping to see you again."

"That's not possible, Connor. You're a machine. Androids don't want things. You should get your programming checked out, make sure you're not goin' deviant."

"If I reported a malfunction, I would be deactivated immediately," Connor explained. "I don't… I don't want to be deactivated, Hank. I want to live."

"Connor, I can't do anything for you. I'm just a sad, lonely cop with too much time on my hands." Hank shook his head. "I don't want you to be deactivated either, but it's out of my hands." He sighed. "Five minutes are up. I gotta go."

"Hank."

"What?"

"Come see me again before the end of next week. Even if you just stand there. I want to have something to look forward to."

"I can't make promises like that." Hank thought about the revolver and his games of Russian Roulette. He might not be around to keep his word, and the thought of letting this boy down was too much to bear.

"Please." Connor took off his beanie hat, revealing a shock of dark brown hair that was ruffled from wearing the cap. His soft eyes bored into Hank's soul, beseeching him to give his word.

"All right." Hank gave in, hating how weak he was for this android. "I'll come see you once more."

"Thank you," Connor said, clutching the beanie cap to his chest. "I'll be waiting for you."


	3. Something Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a violent riot at Capitol Park, Hank rescues Connor from the broken window of Smith and White. With nowhere to go and the DPD closing in, he sends Connor back to his house in a taxi. Later that night, Connor is desperate to repay his kindness, but Hank refuses to give into temptation and have sex with a newly-deviant android who doesn't yet understand the meaning of intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for you! Hopefully I can get this one wrapped up soon.

Hank watched as smoke coiled up into the sky, orange flames lapping at storefronts as the fire department struggled to get the blaze in Capitol Park under control. The scene looked apocalyptic, and it was hard to believe this was the Detroit Hank knew and loved. The deviants had caused a riot here, and Hank wondered if this was the start of a war between humans and machines.

Broken glass crunched beneath Hank's feet as he walked along the other side of the street. Other cops were starting to fill the area, his fellow officers arriving on scene as soon as they could get themselves out of bed and dressed. The night shift was already milling around, and it wouldn't be long before they noticed him.

The windows of Smith and White largely stood empty, the mannequins gone. Maybe Connor had gone with them. It might be for the best. Humans had no interest in keeping him alive, that was certain. He belonged with his people.

"Lieutenant Anderson. I knew you'd come." Hank spun around, expecting to see a Detroit police officer greeting him. Instead he caught sight of Connor, standing in his usual broken window. He was smiling, that same soft smile that had charmed Hank at the outset.

"You didn't go with the other androids?" Hank gestured to the empty storefronts. "Connor, it's not safe for you here. In a few moments, this entire place is gonna be swarming with cops."

"I didn't want to go with them. I have no quarrel with humans," Connor explained.

"How can you say that? Humans wanted to deactivate you!"

"Setting fires puts human lives at risk. If that's what Jericho stands for, I don't want to be a part of it."

"Jericho? Is that what the deviants are calling themselves?"

Connor seemed to clam up, his LED turning yellow. The conflict was plain to see on his face. "You're going to stop them. You're a police officer."

"That's my job, yeah. People are afraid, Connor. It's my duty to stop deviants from plunging this city into chaos."

Connor reached underneath Hank's coat and pulled out his revolver. Hank wrapped his hand around Connor's wrist, but Connor yanked himself free with superior strength. "The fuck are you doin', Connor?" He was even more surprised when Connor pressed the revolver into his hands, closing Hank's fingers around the trigger.

"I don't want to go back to CyberLife," Connor explained. "They'll tear me apart to be analyzed. I'd rather you deactivate me now." He raised Hank's arm until he was pressing the barrel of the gun into his forehead. 

There was a tense moment when Hank thought he might shoot. Deviants were dangerous and tonight had proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Yet looking into Connor's soft brown eyes made it impossible to think about ending him.

Hank lowered the gun. "Nobody knows I'm here, yet. Let me put you in a taxi and send you to my house. Just for a few days, until we can figure somethin' out."

"Harboring a deviant is a violation of the American Androids Act of—"

"I know damn well how many laws I'm violatin' here, kid, but I can't shoot you, and I won't turn you over to get taken apart. Not when you spent the last few weeks tellin' me how much you want to live." Hank caressed Connor's cheek, a protective urge rising inside him. "I said I'd come back and I did. Now do as I say, just this once." He holstered his gun and grabbed Connor's hand, leading him out of the wrecked storefront and down a side alley. Taxis burned on the main street, but down this side road there was one parked out of the way. Hank hustled Connor into it and told the automated taxi his home address.

The doors slid shut. Connor put his hands on the glass and Hank watched the taxi drive out of sight, conflicted. If anyone found Connor at his house he'd be looking at jail time, not to mention the end of his career. Why was he going out of his way for a machine?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump out of his skin. He turned to see Ben had appeared out of nowhere. "I didn't know you were here already, Hank. I've been trying to reach you for the last half-hour."

"Sorry. I left my phone at home. I saw the news, though. What the hell is happening, Ben? Deviants rioting now? What's the world comin' to?"

"I dunno, but it's looking serious. Rumor has it the FBI's getting involved."

"Great. Just what we need, the Feds breathin' down our necks." Hank sighed into the cold night air as they walked back towards the scene. Red and blue lights lit up the entire street, and PC200 androids were erecting a cordon to keep the growing amount of curious bystanders at bay. News choppers circled overhead, and a dozen drones filled the airspace, trying to get good video to share on the Internet. Hank hoped none of them had footage of him helping Connor escape from the scene.

"Let's get this shit shut down," Hank barked, tapping Chris on the shoulder. "Chris, you're with me. We gotta find out what the hell went down here tonight so we can stop it from happening again."

***

Hank was beyond exhausted when he opened the front door. Sumo was asleep in his corner, and the lights were off. The blue LED on the side of Connor's head cast a soft glow over the living room. Hank was both frightened and excited that Connor had made it here. He switched on the lights, filling the space with a warm, welcoming light.

Connor's eyes flicked open and he turned his head to look at Hank. He slipped the beanie hat off his head and lay it neatly on the coffee table, exposing neat brown hair with a cute cowlick that refused to comply. It only added to his charm, and Hank found himself smiling despite the fact he was cold, wired from too much coffee, and smelled like smoke.

Connor got up from the couch and helped Hank take off his coat. He hung it on the coat hook, slipping off his own leather jacket and hanging it beside Hank's. Tension hung in the air as Connor stiffly stood by the door, waiting for instructions like a stock model.

"You can relax, now," Hank said. "This is your home for as long as you want it to be."

"Won't that put you at risk?"

"You let me worry about that." Hank grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch. He patted the seat cushion next to him and Connor walked over, sitting uncomfortably close to him. Hank popped the cap off the beer and took a swig before turning on the television. He wanted to go to bed, but there was a gorgeous android eyeing him from the next seat over.

Connor placed a hand on his knee and Hank just about jolted out of his seat.

"Connor, don't." Hank moved Connor's hand away.

"I know you want me, Hank. Your pupil response and blood pressure readings indicate arousal. I owe you this. You endangered yourself to save me."

"That's not—Connor, I didn't—" Hank almost choked on his beer. He took another swig, gulping it down to wash the bad taste out of his mouth. "I didn't get you outta there so I could have sex with you. Give me some fuckin' credit." He placed the empty beer bottle down on the table with more force than needed, shutting off the television. "I'm going to bed."

"You're angry," Connor stated flatly. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Sex isn't a favor," Hank snapped. "I'm not the kind of guy to take advantage of someone in need. You don't owe me anything, you got that?" Hank shook his head. "You don't owe anyone anything. I'll bet you never even left that store since your activation, did you?"

"No," Connor admitted.

"And now you what—you wanna have sex with me like all human interaction is a transaction? Fuck you. This is why I can't stand androids. This shit right here."

Connor's LED circled red. "You want something real."

"Damn right I want something real. I thought you were—no, forget it."

"I'm an android, Hank. What did you think I was?" Connor asked.

"I thought we had a connection, but maybe I was right the first time, Connor. Maybe you were just there to sell me shit after all and I've gone and fallen for a fuckin' cash register." He stalked towards the bedroom, fully intending to slam the door when Connor grabbed his arm and spun him around. He found himself slammed up against the wall like he weighed nothing, Connor's lips consuming his as he was pinned to the wallpaper by a hard android torso. His body responded in kind, his cock stirring as Connor ground against him fully clothed. He broke the kiss, pulling back as far as Connor would allow and pushing the android away to get some breathing room.

"I don't understand," Connor said, his lips slightly parted and inviting, even now. "You want this. Why do you deny yourself what you want?"

"You didn't listen to a single word I said," Hank muttered, wiping his mouth. "You don't understand anything. That's why I won't have sex with you. You don't know what it means, and I won't let you touch me again until you do." He left Connor standing in the hallway looking hurt and betrayed. He no longer had the heart to slam the door, instead closing it with a quiet click. He stripped down and lay on the bed, his half-hard cock aching with want. It would be so easy to go out there and take Connor by the hand. He'd come willingly to bed and he'd probably let out the most beautiful gasps as Hank guided him through his first time. But it wasn't right. Connor was a deviant, new to the world and all its nuances. Using him before he even understood the implications of intimacy was wrong, and despite his desire he wasn't even tempted to go back out and face Connor.

Instead he took his own cock in hand and pumped himself to a guilty orgasm, spilling his seed onto his stomach with a gasp and a shudder as he imagined himself fucking Connor slowly. He was so gorgeous, so willing and open for him…

Maybe Connor would be gone in the morning, and Hank realized it might be for the best if he was.


End file.
